


I'll Come When You Call

by meaninglessblah



Series: Gift Fics [6]
Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, DCU, DCU (Comics)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Butt Plugs, Costume Kink, Daddy Kink, Double Anal Penetration, Double Penetration, Explicit Sexual Content, Hair-pulling, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Rimming, Spanking, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-01
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:01:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24471736
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meaninglessblah/pseuds/meaninglessblah
Summary: Jason knows what he needs, and he calls the two men he trusts most to give it to him.
Relationships: Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne, Midnighter/Jason Todd, Midnighter/Jason Todd/Bruce Wayne
Series: Gift Fics [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1960108
Comments: 9
Kudos: 142





	I'll Come When You Call

**Author's Note:**

  * For [batsaboutbats](https://archiveofourown.org/users/batsaboutbats/gifts).



> This is a surprise birthday present for batsaboutbats! You've been an absolute gem of a friend, and I hope you take the day to give yourself all the love you give us. Happy birthday!! <3

“You came,” Jason says, unable to temper the note of surprise. He steps aside when Bruce crosses over the threshold of the motel room, scanning the room like it's muscle memory. 

B pauses to meet his gaze when he answers, solemn and sure, “You called.” 

Jason starts, open jaw snapping shut at the certainty in that tone as he follows Bruce down the hallway. He nearly runs up against the man when he hesitates at the mouth of the room, gaze sweeping over the figure sitting on the edge of the queen bed. Forearms layered over his knees, and masked eyes glued to a muted rerun on the tiny television screen. 

“Wayne,” the imposing figure says without looking up, killing the broadcast and tossing the remote onto the nightstand as Jason squeezes past Bruce’s stagnant frame. 

“Trent,” the Batman responds, tone impressively neutral. Jason’s not optimistic enough to assume the two will see on eye to eye on nearly any issue - their styles are impressively juxtaposed - but he’d been hoping they’d find common ground for him. 

M pushes to his full height with a groan, and Jason suspects it’s to impress upon Bruce those crucial extra inches. B doesn’t waver beneath that bared grin, impassive and placid as always. 

Jason takes the middle ground between the two, sitting on the neatly pressed covers and setting his shoulders. He scrubs the back of his neck and runs his fingers through his fringe, aware that he’s stalling in the silence of the small room. 

“Well, you both came,” Jason entreats with, and resolves not to flinch when both their eyes swivel to lock on him. They’re both darkened by the hoods of their cowls, and Jason realises with a bout of hysterical laughter that he’s the only one casually dressed. “Which means you must be at least curious.” 

He doesn’t know why he’s so nervous. The setting isn’t new, and neither are the occupants; he’s pulled M into enough backwoods motels on the city limits that he should get a repeat customer discount by now. And he’s dropped to his knees between Bruce’s thighs, that gloved grip catching gently in his curls, more times than he can reasonably count. 

It’s just, having them both here, _together,_ is sending sparks ricocheting through Jason’s stomach. 

He clears his throat and steels his resolve, lifting his gaze to fix on each of them in turn. “You knew the terms when I called you here. If you want out, now’s the time to say so.” 

“Not going anywhere, kid,” M mutters gruffly, stoking the heat that’s been building in his veins from the minute he punched their cell numbers into his phone. 

“I’m here, Jason,” B answers, sending embers erupting through Jason again. 

M seems to take that as an accord, because he crosses behind the mattress to begin unclasping his gloves. Bruce hesitates a second longer, holding Jason’s gaze with indiscernible intent, before he moves too, and Jason can exhale. 

He’s still a little surprised that B came at all. But here he is nonetheless, shucking his cape as his hands fall to the join of his suit, hooking into the waistline above what Jason knows is a killer adonis belt. 

But as much as he’s salivating at just the thought of getting his mouth on those abdominals… 

“Can you,” Jason interrupts, and B pauses, head lifting to meet his gaze. Jason shifts, suddenly feeling like he’s pinned, and swallows. Summons enough courage to blurt out, “Leave the cowls… on? Please?” 

B’s expression is unreadable beneath the kevlar. It makes heat slither up Jason’s spine, curling his shoulders in like he’s a kid again and awaiting a berating. He’s so busy trying to dissect the slack impassivity of Bruce’s jaw that he doesn’t even hear M’s approach until the man’s lips are brushing his ear. 

Jason jumps nearly a foot in the air when the titan murmurs, “Only because you asked so pretty. I think we can manage that, don’t you, Wayne?” 

B grunts his acquiescence, and Jason draws in a shaky breath when M’s hand snakes around the front of his throat, gently bracketing his windpipe - a warning, for now - to coax Jason back up the mattress. He kicks onto the covers, toeing off his boots with rigorous efficiency as he goes, unwilling to waste even a minute in their presence on pesky clothing. 

M lets him go once Jason’s down to his socks and half-sprawled over the sheets, withdrawing his large palm with a final promising squeeze. He shifts around, knee dipping the mattress between Jason’s ankles as B steps forward to climb behind him, and Jason’s already having trouble keeping them both in his sights. The sensation of being stalked - corralled like prey - makes Jason’s breath come sharp. 

They’re rough; not impatient but definitely aggressive in the way their fingers slide over the buttons of his jeans and roll his jacket off his shoulders. Bruce drags the kevlar callouses of his thumbs over the ridges of Jason’s shoulders when he gets the material bunched around his elbows. It doesn’t escape Jason’s notice that he’s pinned as the man mouths across the top of his back, teeth scraping ever-so-slightly, just barely enough to have Jason shivering with the sensation. 

M must notice his attention is elsewhere, because Jason jolts up with a sharp yelp when the man bites down on the inside of his thigh. He mewls, sinking into the older man’s grin as those huge hands - and Jason’s not _small,_ but M’s palms dwarf his considerable thighs - pin him to the mattress, lathering the indents his teeth have left behind. 

Not to be outdone, Bruce’s lips - a delicate, maddening contrast to M’s harsh bite - flutter over the scar of Jason’s neck. A history, past and buried (again) yawns between them, and the softness with which Bruce handles him now makes a sob hiccup in Jason’s throat. 

Fuck, he hasn’t even gotten his tighty whities around his ankles yet and these two are already breaking him down to a whimpering mess. If only to save some face, Jason rolls his hips up against M’s grip, urging him with a low, impatient grunt until the man chuckles and yanks off his pants hard enough to nearly skin him. 

Okay, hotter than Jason thought possible. His touch is deceptively gentle when it rolls down the waistband of Jason’s panties, and by then B has divested him of his jacket and is pulling his shirt over his head. His overheated skin prickles in the chilled air, his vision obscured as his cock juts free of the material, and Jason’s sure they both pause for a moment just to enjoy how trapped he is, wrapped up in his last layers. 

Jason whines, wriggles his hips, and gasps when M rumbles a laugh beneath him. Then the last confines of his clothes are gone, thrown somewhere across the room, and Jason’s naked, staring up at two monoliths of men. 

No armour, no guns, no advantages. Jason’s sure either of the vigilantes could pin him down under the right circumstances, bare as he is. But the reminder that there’s _two_ of them, as B shifts to stand next to M, makes Jason’s mouth water. 

He’s fucked. 

No, a small voice reminds him, you’re going to _be_ fucked. 

Jason peeks his tongue out, dragging it over dry lips as he stares up at the two men, and doesn’t imagine it when his cock twitches beneath their attention. 

M cracks a smile first, reaching down to grab his right ankle and yank Jason down the bed a foot. He yelps breathlessly, stomach flipping at how easily the vigilante manhandles him, and shivers when M presses a knee to the bed, nudging between his spread thighs.

“Are you gonna turn over and give me a look at that pretty ass of yours, baby?” M asks, teeth flashing in a way that makes Jason’s stomach flip. “Or am I gonna have to throw you over my knee?” 

Jason hears his breath stutter, tries to swallow down the obvious tell with a flush of heat to his cheeks, and knows that he fails. “Not really giving me an incentive to behave here.” 

M snorts, and slides his palms up Jason’s open thighs, skin trembling beneath the coarse sensation. “When have you ever been known to behave?” 

Jason licks his lips again, ignoring the way his cock throbs at the threat there. “Touché.” 

M considers him for a moment as B shifts around the bed, eyes dragging over Jason’s naked skin like a tangible touch. “Changed my mind,” M admits after a moment, tone faux casual. 

He leans forward, and Jason reels at the reach behind that arm as the man takes his chin between two fingers, thumb rolling quickly over his lower lip. He’s aware of Bruce behind him, hands unseen, as Jason’s pulled up to his hands and knees, but he’s too captivated by M’s imposing presence to split his attention. 

“I think we’ll get that ass ready first,” M murmurs around sharp teeth. “Get it warmed up for us to use as we please. Sound good to you, baby?” 

Jason shivers and nods, resisting the urge to lick that thumb as it presses a nail against his teeth. He feels flushed, feels like he’s rattling up to an unbearable heat in M’s palm, the sensation only triplicated as Bruce’s fingers slide over the fronts of his thighs and ease him into a lie on the mattress, spreading his knees around the man’s crouching bulk. The reaction isn’t lost on M, who shifts to wind fingers into the hair on his crown, tugging hard enough to make Jason’s lids flutter and his pulse spike. 

“You gonna call me Daddy, kid?” M croons around a smile that old ladies would cross the street to avoid. It makes Jason’s gut coil tight and hot. 

“If anyone has grounds to be called ‘Daddy’ in this room,” B interrupts with dry cynicism, threading his thumbs up the curve of Jason’s spine, easing him into a pliant arch, “it would be me, Trent.” 

A whine, high and thin, fills the room, startling the three men, and it’s not until Jason feels the burning stare of M’s lens that he realises _he’s_ making that noise. It bubbles into silence as the flush on his cheek spreads, matched inch for inch by M’s broadening smirk. The fingers in his fringe tighten, and Jason can’t stifle a groan as he’s arched back to a nearly uncomfortable angle, rising to his elbows to ease the ache on his scalp as B’s palms wind around to pin his hips down, thumbs pressing into the small of his back. 

He’s sure it’s completely intentional, perfectly calculated, on M’s part, and under any other circumstances Jason would take it with a curled lip and a sharp-tongued retort. But now he just lets his jaw go slack, lets his tongue shove the whimper trapped behind his teeth out as M strokes a thumb over his burning cheeks. 

“You like that, don’t you, kid? Getting fucked by your Daddies.” Jason’s brow pinches, lashes fluttering at the way those words make his veins ooze heat. Christ, when did he develop such depraved kinks? He really ought to spend an afternoon just nailing (ha) those down. “Don’t worry, baby boy, we make great father figures,” M continues uninterrupted, a snort caged behind the derision in tone. 

“We know how to treat you, Jaylad,” Bruce assures him in that deep, slightly hoarse voice of his, and Jason feels the tickle of his fringe when he dips between Jason’s cheeks. He wrangles a soft cry from his tight throat, tensing briefly and revelling in the way he’s trapped between their holds - M holding him high in that perfect arch and B’s hands wrapped over his hips, pressing them down into the mattress. It smothers Jason’s cock against the sheets, depriving him of the leverage to grind down. 

He just has to lie there, while M palms his own cock and B sucks on his rim. Fuck, Jason thinks, he might not even need the friction to get off, if B’s velvet tongue is as good inside him as it is drawing circles around his fluttering hole. His hands close down on the sheets beneath him, clinging for something to anchor him as Bruce nudges deeper and delves into him with that slick muscle. 

He jolts up the bed when B licks into him, a strangled shout lodging in his throat. M meets him before he can rise more than an inch, as if he'd expected it, as if he could read Jason with that damn computer in his skull. It thrums heady between his ears, the idea that he's so bare, so vulnerable, that M can just _see_ what he needs and counteract it before Jason even knows himself. 

It makes him melt into the sheets, a shudder rippling down his spine to where Bruce's skilled tongue presses deep into him. Jason pants and shifts and tries to focus on anything other than the sensation of B inside him, licking him open slow and deep, like the world could end around him and he wouldn’t care. 

He settles for enjoying the sight of M palming his cock, the outline prominent against the material of his suit, and Jason’s mouth practically waters at the sight. Just the thought of that length inside him, sliding inexorably into him, into his throat, makes Jason’s jaw fall open, tongue coaxing. 

“Looks like you _can_ behave,” M says, coy and rough in a way that chases shivers up the inside of Jason’s sternum. 

He moans and curls his tongue, beckoning as M frees himself, palm stroking up that length. 

“You want something, baby boy?” 

Jason tries to nod, finds himself hobbled by the grip in his hair, and groans instead, turning those pleading eyes he knows M loves up at the man. A chuckle rumbles from that deep chest, and Jason’s nails bite into the sheets when M shuffles forward to drag his cock over Jason’s cheek. Traces the outline of his flushed and bitten lips, featherlight and tortuous as Jason waits with his mouth open. 

He feels like he’s hanging on a thread, everything focused to a point on the gentle press against his lips. Jason’s so consumed with the infinitesimal movement of M’s cock that he jolts when B eases a thumb in alongside his tongue. His shout curls into a moan as it slides into him, the unrelenting pressure of kevlar making him clench down involuntarily. 

Even lubed - and Jason has no idea when he lost track of Bruce retrieving the bottle - the friction of that gloved digit is heavenly, curling Jason’s toes as he bears down onto B’s steady mouth. The man’s other hand worries a bruise into the crease of his ass and thigh, holding him still as Bruce works him open. 

It’s impossible to keep his attention on both men, and Jason honestly can’t choose between them, so he’s silently relieved when M releases his hair to tuck himself away again. Those hands aren’t idle for long, digging into his belt to unearth something that makes M’s lips curl ever higher. 

Jason groans when he lifts the plug into his line of sight, eyeing the wicked curve of black silicone. 

“How about you get this nice and wet for us?” M suggests, pressing it to his lower lip, and Jason’s tongue flickers out eagerly. He draws it deeper into his mouth once he’s finished lapping at the blunt head, grateful for an outlet for all the captive energy Bruce is working into him with that tongue. 

Jason’s aware of how desperate he must look, all but deepthroating a piece of silicone. Especially when M’s crotch is right in front of his face, those huge fingers tugging at his hair. 

He’s a whimpering, trembling mess, his thoughts stirred into a frenzied blur when M withdraws the plug from his lips and passes it back to B. Jason tries to wither into the sheets, shoulders dropping from their tense hunch, only to be stopped by the hand in his hair. 

It pulls again, forcing Jason’s eyes open as he blinks up at the vigilante. 

“Eyes on me, baby boy,” M orders, gaze burning into Jason’s in a way that scours his bones. “I want to see them when you imagine my cock sliding into you.” 

The sound Jason makes is half sob, half plea, and entirely desperate. M’s teeth gleam in the lowlight. He hears Bruce shift slightly, that tongue finally withdrawing with a final trek up his crease. Then that plug is easing into him to replace Bruce's thumb, settling hard and firm against his prostate. 

Jason exhales out a rippling sigh, sure he gives M the view of his life with how open his expression is. The vigilante takes a moment to savour the decadent bliss etched into every feature, and then he's shifting, drawing up to his full height. 

“Hands and knees, kid,” M orders, his footfalls intentionally heavy as he steps around Jason to change places with Bruce. The mattress shifts when B slides to the edge of it, and Jason spreads his knees wider to counteract the upset to his balance. 

Bruce’s palm is under his jaw in the next minute, guiding his head up as he lifts his gaze to those blank lenses. There’s a pair of gloves in his bare hand, and Jason frowns until B’s grip turns more insistent, tugging his lips open with the hold on his jaw. 

“I need you to hold these for me, Jaylad,” he murmurs, gravelly, and Jason opens pliantly as his confusion dissipates. He can taste the tang of leather oil on his tongue, seeping from the gloves as bites down, and something more coppery. He shivers at the taste, moaning as B slides a thumb over his chin. “Be good for me, Jay. Don’t drop those.” 

Jason swallows, a soft little whine hitching in his throat when he nods. 

It rises to a needy keen when M strokes his calloused palm over the swell of his ass, reaches down to cup his balls. Jason rocks forward with a strained gasp, halting sharply when M gives him a warning tug. 

“You stay right there, baby,” he purrs around an audible smile. His fingers trace the curves of Jason’s hipbones, tilting his ass up until it’s at a suitable angle. “Gonna warm you up.” 

Then there’s a whistle of air, and the slap of skin on skin. The shock makes him cant forward, hips jerking, but the flare of pain that follows makes him mewl around the leather, biting down hard. His ass feels brand-hot, and Jason has exactly enough time to suck in a sharp breath when that hand lands again with perfect accuracy over the same mark. 

Fucking computerised brain, Jason thinks absently, but it’s shoved from his mind with the next smack, punching a shout from his lungs. 

“You enjoying yourself, Jaylad?” Bruce asks, and Jason’s answer is swallowed in his yelp when M’s hand lands on his other cheek. B’s thumb traces his jawline, trailing down his throat as he frees himself from the catches on his suit. 

Jason’s eyes widen, his mouth flooding with saliva like some damn Pavlovian response as B strokes a bare palm up his length, precum glistening on the tip. 

Bruce just watches him, caressing himself idly as he watches Jason’s expression pinch. Keeps a weathered eye on the determination coiling through Jason, the unwavering urge to serve B just like he did years ago. For the mission. For the man. 

Tears spring to Jason’s eyes with the next quick succession of blows, throat catching as he swallows hard. His ass is a mess of heat and pain, numbing itself into a red-hot ache that spreads slowly over the curve of his backside, inching up his spine. M doesn’t give him more than a few seconds to recover from each hit, calculating every slap to bruise deep into the muscle and coil the need in Jason’s stomach tighter. 

He withstands it all with steely resolve, eyes fixed on Bruce as he reaches down to tug the gloves from between his teeth. Free the pants that spill forth without the obstruction to keep him gagged, to hide his need, and Jason can’t deny that he’s vocal at the best of times, but when M’s palm comes down he _sings._

But then B folds the gloves into his belt, fingers curling around his member as he steps forward, and Jason’s attention is consumed with all of Bruce. 

He’s almost distracted enough that M’s next spank, landing on the crease of his thigh and ass, derails his train of thought. Then Bruce’s hand is back in his hair, cupping his head to guide him down onto his cock, and Jason slides into the familiar motion, needy. 

The slide over his tongue is heavenly, is delectable, and Jason leans forward to take him deeper, needing to feel B as deep as he possibly can. Those fingers tighten in his hair briefly, a sharp inhale whistling over Bruce’s lips - the only indication of a fracture in the man’s resolve - before it relaxes and he rocks forward into Jason’s mouth. 

“Good boy,” M murmurs from behind him, and punctuates it with another spank that has Jason whimpering around B’s cock. That large hand slips down to fist around Jason’s own length, the friction yanking a whine from his stuffed throat. 

“Amazing,” Bruce murmurs, low and gravelly, drunk on the sight of Jason’s lips stretched around him. Jason feels like he’s in a haze, the burning ache in his ass rippling up his spine to overwhelm his senses. The heat is amazing, is dizzying, and he floats between them, savouring each blow, each rock into his full mouth. 

When Bruce pulls out, it’s chased with a whine and a string of spit, both breaking from Jason’s plush lips. The cool air is almost painful on his smarting cheeks, and Jason gasps when M’s hand rolls over the heated flesh, kneading once and then tugging gently on the plug just to watch him suck it back down. 

“That ass is something else.” 

B hums a note of agreement, entranced by the slow blink of Jason’s long lashes, studying the pink dusted across his cheeks. “He’s a gift.” 

M shifts onto the bed behind Jason, calloused palms scraping down his bare thighs. “You can say that again.” He pulls Jason back over his lap, hand curling around his waist to stroke him as Jason shudders and settles back on his calves, splayed over the man’s broad legs. “Come here, darling; gonna fill you up.” 

Jason arches at the promise, rocking into M’s grip as he eases the plug out of him. But not before he fucks the length into him a few times, until Jason whimpers at the assault on his prostate, at the sharp curl of heat that sears through his gut. His nails bite into M’s thighs, catching on the coarse material as he rocks back into the sensation. 

Lips press to the side of his throat, tender and soft enough to pry Jason’s eyes open as Bruce settles on the bed in front of him. His gaze burns even through the cowl, hot and possessive, and the ferocity of them ignites Jason’s core. 

It’s a rush, to see them both like this, to know that if it were anyone else, they’d be at each other’s throats in a heartbeat. Knowing they’re doing this for him, for his pleasure, makes Jason’s chest ache. Knowing that he’s enough for them both. 

It chokes him up a little, something settling thick in the base of Jason’s throat, so he shifts up to a high kneel, M’s palm parting from his length to pull his own cock free. Suddenly, he wants them inside him, wants to be full with them. Whines at the emptiness between his thighs, as Bruce’s fingers slide up to toy with Jason’s nipples, coaxing the nubs to stiffness, pinching them intermittently just to hear him moan. 

Jason splays his palms over M’s thighs, exhaling as he shifts his weight, rocking his hips back until he can feel the blunt nudge of M’s cock between his cheeks. The man is unnervingly quiet, unbearably still, as Jason slides down on his length, rising every few inches as he adjusts to the girth. Working himself down as his thighs shake and his nails bite into the thick weave of M’s pants. 

He can’t quite quell the soft whine as he sinks. M feels enormous, made all the more poignant with the position, and for a second Jason wonders if he can really do this. Then he’s seated, a sigh easing from his lungs as M’s gloved fingers curl over his hips, roll him back onto his cock just so he can drag the member over Jason’s prostate. 

The motion punches a whimper from his slack jaw, and then B’s hands are layered on his ribs, guiding him back into a lean as M shifts upright to take his weight. His cock feels unbelievably big as Jason’s manhandled backwards, slow and steady, between the two men, until his skull rests back against M’s shoulder and he sucks down a shaky breath. 

Bruce’s fingers stroke up the inside of his thigh, soothing as he murmurs, “You’re doing wonderfully, Jaylad.” 

“B,” he whines, brow pinching, wanting the man closer. Needing him as close to Jason’s smouldering veins as he can get him. His lungs feel tight, every part of him coiled as M throbs inside him, unmoving. 

Then B’s hands are hesitating on the underside of his legs, cool against his oversensitive skin. Jason tilts his head enough to throw him a questioning look, but the words are punched from him in a ragged groan as M digs his heels into the mattress and thrusts, short and sharp, up into him. 

“Fuck, M,” he whines, palms falling to the man’s broad ribs to give himself an anchoring point. 

“That’s Daddy to you, kid,” he rumbles back, up and behind Jason’s ear. Reminding him just how much taller, _bigger_ M is. Jason withers against him, lashes fluttering as the man thrusts into him again, jostling him further up his chest. “Let me hear it from you.” 

“Daddy,” he gasps, sure his grip is hard enough to bruise were it not for M’s armour. It’s a dizzying reminder of how bare he is compared to the two other men, how truly naked he is here. Jason soaks into the thrill of it, canting his hips down on M’s pleased hum. 

“How do you want it, Jaylad?” B asks, bending down to press a kiss to the quiver of Jason’s stomach. 

He arches beneath those lips, breath trembling in his throat as he reels in his spinning senses. It’s so soft, so careful. All the thought and consideration Jason _knows_ Bruce is capable of, compressed into that gentle brush of lips over his sweat-streaked skin. Worshipping him. Reverent. 

Maybe it’s their history. Maybe it’s the way Jason can never trust a good thing for too long, can never give up that last scrap of control when it means he has to hand the reins over entirely to someone else. Trust them with the deepest, darkest, most broken parts of him. Maybe he’s just not capable of giving Bruce that. Maybe he’ll never be. 

So Jason shudders out a breath and fumbles his fingers into B’s hair, forcing himself to meet his piercing gaze when he pushes up into the touch. Jason swallows and exhales and says, “Make me feel it. I can take it, yeah?” 

Bruce might look at him with something like pity. It might be admiration. Jason can’t tell in the dim ambience of the room, with that cowl hiding the features Jason knows by rote from him. Either way, B doesn’t wait more than a few seconds longer to switch his grip on Jason’s thighs and _push._

Jason whines out a ragged, “ _Fuck,_ ” as those palms cup his calves, bending him in half and then further as B leverages them up. 

Arching doesn’t help. 

Neither does squirming. 

Jason is forced to just lie there trembling as B pushes his legs up until they’re nearly level with his ears, shaking with the stretch as M mouths at his shoulders and rocks shallowly into him. 

It’s not until M shifts and lifts his hands to clamp them firmly around Jason’s ankles that he realises what their plan is. He sobs when he does, nails biting into M’s forearms as B relinquishes his hold to stroke his own cock. The kneeling man shuffles forward, and Jason’s breath stills when his head slides up the bare expanse of Jason’s cheek, slick with lube. A trail of it cools against his skin as Bruce lines up. 

Jason has the barest second to suck down a sharp breath, head spinning wildly, and then B is sliding into him. 

It feels- 

Oh god, it _feels-_

He cries out, hips rocking as Bruce fills him inch by inch, and is detachedly grateful when M’s hard grip on his ankles stops him from moving. B is going slow, oh-so-considerate as he stretches Jason to his absolute maximum. 

It drives Jason absolutely mad. 

He almost wants Bruce to slam home, to get _in,_ so he can breathe again. It’s probably for the best that his babbling isn’t coherent, because Jason doesn’t know _what_ he wants, and the cruel slide of B along his already stuffed passage is heavenly. 

M’s composure is far better than his own; Jason’s a trembling wreck by the time B stills with a grunt, and M’s low whistle of air that tickles the hair tucked behind Jason’s ear is the only indication he gets of just how affected the man really is. They pause there - Jason with his ankles held captive, folded up to his ears, with two men balls deep in his ass, unable to string together a thought long enough to keep the string of saliva from drooling out his slack jaw - and then Bruce is moving. 

Jason nearly whites out. It’s so much - too much? - _not enough,_ and he’s bellowing, sharp little screams that are punched out of his chest every time B slams into him, nudges M’s cock up against his prostate. He can’t do anything but slump back and take it, held immobile by M’s bruising grip as he twitches and drools. 

M is grunting, low and consistent behind his ear, and Jason stirs when his orgasm rushes up on him, suddenly aware that he’s going to _crash_ unlike ever before. He whines, trying to form a plea, trying to beg mercy, as B’s rhythm - when did he get so fast? - jostles him with every thrust. His hands feel like lead when he fumbles for the man, nails streaking down his armoured chest before he manages to find purchase on Bruce’s shoulders. Manages to anchor himself as his gut coils unbearably tight and Jason feels like he’s going to shatter with the brittle force of it. 

“That’s it, kid,” M rumbles, biting into his shoulder hard enough that Jason’s _sure_ he draws blood, computerised calculations be damned. “Let it go. Let us take care of you.” 

He can’t- 

It’s- 

He- 

Throws his head back and _wails_ as every nerve in his body flares excruciatingly. 

Jason’s aware of his cock smacking his stomach with every deep thrust, spurting stripes of hot cum over him, but he can’t concentrate past the roar in his ears and the rush of tingling pleasure that crests over him. 

He can’t make sense of his own limbs, can’t even begin to work out where he ends and they start as he slumps boneless against M. A few moments later they’re coming, and Jason preens at the sensation belatedly, at the feel of their cum deep inside him, reaching for Bruce when he stills above him. 

The man doesn’t resist when Jason pulls him down to kiss him, messy and uncoordinated. He’s barely coherent, but Jason knows his way around B like the back of his hand, and there’s no hesitation before the vigilante is indulging him, reaching up to cradle his jaw, a bare thumb stroking gently over Jason’s cheekbone. 

He’s distantly aware of lips on his neck, of hands slowly, carefully, folding his legs back down. Jason hums and sighs and melts into the sensations, every nerve fried as he’s turned into the soft sheets. 

Bruce pulls back from his lips, swallowing Jason’s bleat of protest, before he’s back again, kissing his temple and his brow as something cotton-soft wipes him down. 

M’s palms squeeze his hips gently, igniting the bruises there as he pulls free, and Jason turns to blink over his shoulder at the man. “You gonna pass out on us, kid?” he asks in that rough timbre, breath tickling the hairs at Jason's neck. 

His answer comes out incomprehensible but an uncontested affirmation, and M chuckles softly. Shifts to rearrange Jason’s leaden limbs across the bed so Bruce can fit, can cage him in the width of those strong arms. 

They’re so warm around him, so sturdy. Jason tucks his head against Bruce’s stubble and floats in the protectiveness of their embrace, welcoming the bone deep tiredness that swamps him. 

“We’ve got you, Jaylad,” B murmurs into his crown, a kiss and a promise. He’s aware of someone’s fingers threading into his, palms circling his waist as he sinks gratefully. “Get some rest. We’ll be here when you wake.” 

Something tugs at his memory, something important scraping the very edge of his consciousness. He turns his lips against B’s and slurs, “You came when I called.” 

Those lips shift up to kiss his hairline, a gentle brush against his forehead. “Of course,” Bruce answers, like it really is that simple. Like the choice, the decision, is obvious. Maybe it finally is. “Always will.” 

**Author's Note:**

> [ ](https://linktr.ee/meaninglessblah)


End file.
